


Skrrt Skrrt

by orphan_account



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Crossdressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 13:57:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12212667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Morty likes skirts!





	Skrrt Skrrt

It began with a denim mini skirt. After yet  _ another _ desk-wetting incident, Summer had taken pity on her brother and lent him an extra skirt she had in her locker so he didn’t have to be half-naked while his jeans dried beneath the hand-blower in the restroom. The scrap of fabric fell to mid-thigh and the frayed edges tickled his skin as he sat on the toilet and played on his phone while the hand-blower (with the button taped down) blew hot hair over his urine-soaked jeans. 

Moving around in a skirt was more comfortable. Even in the limited space of the bathroom, Morty found he could bend, and walk, and squat with a much better range of motion in Summer’s skirt than he ever could in his jeans. 

He experimented with kilts next. There was a cheap one at the local consignment store. The fabric was thin and badly sewn, giving Morty the impression that this was perhaps an old costume and not an actual kilt, but it fell to his knees, and the wide pleats gave him enough room that if he had the flexibility he’d be able to do the splits in his kilt. 

But the kilt was badly made and after just a few days of wearing it in his room, the seam busted, and although he clumsily repaired it, the kilt wasn’t the same. Real kilts online were expensive, and buying clothes without seeing them in person felt weird anyway. But after having experienced the freedom of movement, the way the cool air slipped around his thighs, the pleasant way a skirt fanned out around his legs as he sat down, Morty was hooked and desperate for another skirt. But Summer only had more miniskirts, and tended to wear leggings and jeans, while everything his mom had was too big. 

Besides, Morty didn’t want  _ their  _ skirts. He wanted his own. 

So Morty biked to the mall one afternoon, where, in an anxious state of hurry, he lied to a clerk about needing a present for a fake girlfriend and bought four different skirts. 

The first three didn’t fit. He’d been too scared to try them on in the store, so they were thrown back into bag to be returned. His fourth skirt however, was  _ perfect _ . 

It was a black, wool-cotton blend skirt that was long enough to fall just below his knees, with knife pleats and pockets. The top band comfortably fit right under his belly button and the skirt was lined with a silky polyester insert. The material felt heavy, but the skirt was lightweight. It fit him perfectly, and once Morty had it on, he realized he never wanted to wear anything else. 

At first, he nervously wondered if it was okay that he liked skirts. He didn’t like other clothes that his mom and sister wore, and in fact, pink skirts or frilly skirts didn’t appeal to him. Morty liked the utilitarian aesthetic of pleated skirts. The understated formality of black or navy blue was lovely, and skirts that went past his knees still afforded him movement while maintaining decency. 

His skirt was the perfect article of clothing. Slowly, Morty began to fantasize about wearing it outside his bedroom. 

For weeks Morty kept his skirt safely hung up in the back of his closet, taking it out to wear in his room and admire his appearance in the mirror: yellow shirt, long black pleated skirt, white ankle socks and black sneakers. He looked incredible. He  _ felt _ incredible. And Morty feeling incredible was so rare and so special, that on his very next adventure with Rick, he took a deep breath, changed into his skirt, and then scampered back downstairs to join his grandfather, who was waiting by an open portal.

Morty’s heart was thundering when he entered the garage, fully ready to get an earful over his clothing choice, but Rick simply sighed. 

“Jeez, are you finally ready? L-let’s gooooo--”

And he strode through the portal with nary a look behind him. Morty hastened to catch up.

The adventure was relatively low-key (or at least as low-key as a Rick and Morty adventure could be), only involving some minor card-counting at an illegal alien gambling den and then escaping through underground tunnels, their prize winnings stuffed into their arms. Morty felt so much more comfortable and at ease in his skirt that he entirely forgot he was wearing one until they tumbled back through the portal into the garage and he tripped over the hem. 

Rick caught his arm before he fell on his face. “Hey watch it! Th-there’s important stuff in here, Morty! Important  _ -eurrp _ \- inventions, stuff--s-s-s-stuff that could literally--you know, you couldn’t even comprehend it if I described it--”

“Jeez, alright!” Morty took his arm back and straightened his skirt self-consciously, taking care to make sure the pleats were falling correctly. “I’ll b-be more careful.”

Rick paused now, and seemed to finally look at Morty properly. “Well that’s the problem, your skirt is too long.”

“I like it long, i-iit looks nice!”

“Morty I didn’t say--euurpp--I didn’t say it didn’t look nice, I said it looked long.” Rick spread his legs and did a few lunges, “Can you do  _ this _ in your skirt, huh? Y-your ole’ grandpa has worn a skirt or two in in his day  _ Morty _ , and you gotta be able to move.”

“Oh whatever Rick--” Morty rolled his eyes, “I’ve seen that one picture of you from your Flesh Curtains days where you’re wearing a hot pink l-l-latex pencil skirt for crying out loud--y-you gonna tell me you could move around in  _ that _ ?”

“That sounds like a challenge, Morty,” Rick replied in a deep voice, before walking briskly to the door of the garage, “Stay right --eurrrp- here, we-we-we’ll  _ see _ who can move around in a skirt properly!”

Morty had homework he was supposed to be doing, but when Rick said stay, he meant it, so he settled down into Rick’s office chair and waited. His grandfather didn’t keep him waiting for long and sure enough, stomped right back into the garage in his blue shirt, lab coat, white orthopedic sneakers, and the  pièce de résistance: a skin tight, shocking pink latex skirt that stretched from the middle of his torso down to his bony knees. The outfit was entirely ridiculous but Rick’s affable swagger somehow made the crazy combination look like a carefully curated street fashion ensemble.

“Aiight bitch,” Rick rudely began, “I’m a man of science, so we’re going to approach this scientifically. First one to complete these tasks in our skirts wins.”

He slapped down a sheet of notebook paper upon which was scrawled various athletic activities. 

Morty squinted up at him, “Win...what?”

“What do you mean win what?” Rick gesticulated aggressively, “Is the thrill of victory not  _ enough _ for you Morty, huh? Y-y-you need--your generation needs a fucking trophy for everything? Well grandpa’s no pussy, so go ahead and make your little wager, I’m going to win anyway.”

Morty grinned now, suddenly confident--confident in his  _ skirt _ ! “If I win, I get to pick one out of every  _ nine _ adventures!”

“Fuck you.”

“Thats--that’s the terms, Rick, I thought y-you weren’t a pussy!”

Rick’s unibrow settled low over his eyes and he bared his teeth. “Fine.” He adjusted his skirt and crossed his arms, “Alright then Morty, nut up or shut up, w-what are we doing first?”

Two hours later later, Rick and Morty were both shining with sweat and out of breath; six of the seven challenges on the list crossed out. Morty had succeeded in a foot race, a game of one-on-one basketball, and jumping rope, while Rick had managed to secure wins in twerking, skateboarding, and climbing a ladder (the last activity Morty had forfeited simply because Rick was holding the ladder at the bottom actively leering up with a grin on his face). Now at last, they had arrived at the final challenge and also the tie-breaker: the fashion walk.

“We need someone else to judge this Rick, y-you’re not going to be impartial.”

“Morty who knows more about fashion, you don’t know the first thing about fashion!” But after Morty continued to whine, he relented and sticking his head into the living room, demanded that Summer join them in the garage. 

Summer however, took two steps into the garage, spotted her brother and grandfather, panting and sweating in skirts, and walked right back out again.

“N-n-no wait Summer, we need you to judge our fashion walks!” Morty caught her by the wrist and and stared at her determinedly. “I have to prove I can move in a skirt better than Rick!”

“Yeah, a fashion walk isn’t going to prove anything, and I’m not going to sit in the garage and watch while you two be weird. Why don’t you guys just wrestle?” 

And with that final suggestion, Summer flounced back out of the garage as Rick tackled Morty from behind with a triumphant belch.


End file.
